


Apodyopis/Gymnophoria

by thepottermalfoyproblem



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, pining hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7356046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepottermalfoyproblem/pseuds/thepottermalfoyproblem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke only has eyes for Varric's chest hair, and doesn't Varric know it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apodyopis/Gymnophoria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fortheloveofhawke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofhawke/gifts).



> Hightown Funk 2016 Treat
> 
> I own nothing.

**Apodyopis**

Often, in the evenings, Hawke could be found lurking about the Hanged Man. Normally she leaned against the bar or stretched across a couple chairs in her favorite corner, a mug in one hand as she watched the room. But this particular evening she lounged in the doorway belonging to her favorite dwarf, watching as he scratched words across the parchment pages laid out in front of him. She rather liked the view, since from her vantage point she could see his gingery chest hair catch the fire-light.

He’d already doffed his duster in the warmth of Kirkwall summer, grumbling about how leather was useful until it got warm and then it was no use to anyone. Hawke had watched with thinly veiled interest as he tossed the offending garment across the back of his chair, trying, and failing, not to focus too hard on the ripple of muscle in his upper arms and the pull of his shirt against his broad shoulders.

So now here she was, caught in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of her best friend’s chest hair. She idly wondered how far down it trailed, whether it stopped at the bottom of his pecs or narrowed into a fine line leading down…

Hawke ground her thoughts to a halt and buried her face in her mug, cheeks burning. But the thought followed her, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run her hands over Varric’s arms. She choked on her ale.

Looking up, she saw that Varric either hadn’t heard her, or he just chose to ignore her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Said relief was sadly short-lived, however, when Varric leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. His shirt shifted and suddenly Hawke had an even better view.

She must have made some sort of noise, because Varric looked at her then.

“You alright over there, Hawke?”

Hawke tried not to trip and fall on her face as she fled down the stairs in mortification.

 

**Gymnophoria**

Varric knew when someone had their eyes on him. What kind of sneaky rogue would he be if he didn’t?

So he was well aware that Hawke’s eyes fixated on his arms as he shed his duster. Oh she tried to hide behind her mug of ale, but Hawke wasn’t the most subtle of people. She’d been eying him for ages, and he’d taken every opportunity to give her plenty of things to think about.

Biting his lip to keep from saying something foolish, he felt her eyes drift down his chest hair, and pretended instead to write. Hawke was so entranced that she didn’t even notice he had no ink on his pen. How the girl had ever become a successful rogue was beyond him, but she made it work. Somehow.

He kept his eyes down, but was worried when he heard a sudden choking noise coming from the doorway. Giving a couple seconds, he stretched slowly backwards, angling his arms in such a way he knew Hawke would get an eyeful. Varric was rewarded with a shocked intake of breath, and he glanced over at her.

“You alright over there, Hawke?” She certainly wasn’t with the way her ears had gone pink and her eyes had gone wide.

 When Hawke let out an undignified squeak and fled down the stairs, he suppressed a smirk. She’d come around eventually.


End file.
